Riders on the Wing
by Sirius7
Summary: A Sacoridia in the midst of war, a Rider searching for a missing King... and a world where Dragons defend the skies.
1. Prologue: Unusual Riders

Riders on the Wing

A _Green Rider/Dragonriders of Pern_ crossover

By: Sirius

Disclaimer: They're not mine. They've never been mine. I'm just playing with them and then putting them right back (I don't even – strictly speaking – have any OC's in this one… yet).

Timeline: In the _Green Rider_ universe, the tale flashes back to moments that take place only a couple of months after _High King's Tomb_, but the majority of the story is about two years after HKT. In terms of _Dragonriders of Pern_, it takes place during the Ninth Pass, before T'ron, Mardra and various other Oldtimers are exiled to Southern.

Fair Warning: I know where the story's going and how it will be ending, and how various characters got where they are (you'll see)… but some of the middle bits are still a little shaky, so don't be surprised if this takes a little longer to shape up than some of my others. No worries, all questions will be answered… in time.

Rating: T for now. It may go up later.

_Prologue: Unusual Riders_

Fort Weyr had grown uneasy with the two young dragons and their riders. Strange… and somewhat frightening… were this bronze and brown who _refused_ to allow the abbreviation of their riders' names. Bronze Aerycth, who – it would seem – might some day rival the great Mnementh in size, was quietly but resolutely insistent when he stated that his rider's name was Zachary. _Not Z'ry, not Z'chary… Zachary._ Brown Jonath, his large, strong and steady clutchmate, was no less determined when it came to his own rider.

There was much about the two men that ran contrary to everything the Weyr understood. They were too old to be Searched – the dragons had not even _been _on Search, as there were enough weyrbrats to stand for Loranth's clutch – but the dragons near the Hold that day were sensitive to such people, and refused to leave without them. They were too old to stand for Impression – and indeed, Fort's Weyrleader had kept them from Standing – but nothing was able to halt two determined hatchlings who were well aware that their life partners were not _on_ the Hatching Ground, and the dragon's choice could never be denied. No one knew where the men had come from, and no adult from the surrounding Holds could - or _would _– say anything of them other than that they worked hard and spoke little. The clothing they had worn when they had stumbled into a cothold at Southern Boll spoke of wealth… and hard times, for though it was of good quality, it had seen better days, as had the men.

The Fort riders had gained their most prized clues about their unexpected Candidates from the Hold children – still in awe of the dragons, though they mistrusted Fort riders almost as much as their parents. The children trusted the two strangers and always noticed one or the other of them listening to the lessens the Hold Harper taught the children, as if they'd never heard the Teaching Ballads… or the common language of Pern was entirely unfamiliar to them. If, indeed, they did not speak the language of Pern, what did they speak? Where did they come from? Why did the dragons Search two people who had no idea what it would mean to be a dragonrider? For months, the questions had whispered about Fort Weyr… and still, there were no answers.

Truly, most of Fort – riders and Weyrfolk alike – did not know what to do with them, did not want them… and now that the dragons and riders had been fully trained, felt perfectly justified in wishing another Weyr would take them. Indeed, the Weyrleaders were doing whatever they could to make certain these two unprecedented pairs quickly found a home elsewhere, and made no secret of it in the presence of the riders in question.

Zachary, bronze Aerycth's rider, was always courteous, but remained even on the best of days a solemn, quiet man, who only rarely showed signs of laughter or any lighter emotion… and those moments occurred most often when he spoke with Jonath's rider, the silent and intimidating Fastion, in that language no one on Pern seemed to know, save for those two men. Though little else was known of him, his sense of justice was obvious… and that almost immediately set him at odds with Fort's Weyrleader, T'ron.

Even during Weyrling training, the sharp eyes of Aerycth's rider had noticed other – more senior – Fort riders leaving, only to return with goods that he was certain were _not _tithe items, nor anything even a dragonrider could expect to gain free of charge. His mind, quick to understand politics in any world, realized that these riders were men who felt entitled to whatever they wished as the price of protecting Pern, even if they had not always behaved with so little honor. Instead of guardians keeping a noble duty, they had become little more than petty thieves… and that, with their Weyrleaders' tacit approval.

In this instance, he did not attempt to hide his disgust for their actions, and his open contempt only made T'ron and Mardra loathe him, with Fastion – who was of the same opinion as the bronze rider – coming a close second in their estimation. Others among the Fort riders might be trustworthy, Zachary knew, but if they were, they kept their heads lower than he kept his. By the time Weyrling training had come to a close, he and Fastion had been assigned every miserable task available, and whatever else occurred to those who disliked being judged… even when the judgment was silent. They spoke not a word of complaint in the open, sharing any thoughts and frustrations by way of their dragons only, so as to avoid being overheard. That the Weyrleaders sought to send them elsewhere surprised the riders not at all, and Zachary knew that Fastion suspected darker plans than a simple transfer, but such was the nature of Weapons.

To be continued...


	2. 1: A Council of Governors

See Prologue for Disclaimer and A/N

A/N: I know there are still a lot of questions, but I promise, they _will_ be answered... in time. For a while, the story will switch back and forth between Pern and Sacoridia, but I will do my best to make it clear where and _when_ any given scene is taking place. And for anyone who's curious about the Captain's reaction at the end of this chapter... there will be more on that later.

Chapter 1: A Council of Governors

_Sacoridia, two years before_

Karigan stood before the Council, repeating – _yet again_ – what she had seen of the site that was the last known location of Sacoridia's King. She struggled to contain her frustration, wanting more than anything to find Zachary. _The King,_ she reminded herself. _What I want is to find the King. Even now, I cannot allow myself the luxury of calling him Zachary… or even thinking it, though there are bigger problems than how I address the King in the privacy of my own thoughts._

After answering all questions, she fell silent, listening carefully to everything that was said, waiting for someone to suggest what she knew would be coming. That the question came from one of the newer Lords Governor surprised her; she'd been half-expecting Lord Governor Coutre to voice it.

"Who is to be King?"

In the chaos that followed the question, only Karigan's answer was clear enough to be heard. "Your pardon, Lord Governor, but that question has no place here. We have seen no proof that King Zachary is dead, and until we see such proof, he is alive. He may not be well. He may not be free to return to the city… but he _is_ alive; do not doubt that. We found some of his Weapons, but not all… killed suddenly, with no signs of time to struggle. Yet, the King was not there. _Fastion_, one I proudly call Brother, one who would willingly die before letting a blade so much as _scratch_ the King, were it in his power, is also missing. There were no signs of either of them being dragged from the place, and no indication that the creatures of the Vale had decided… gods help us… that they looked to be a good meal."

One by one, listening to her words, though not entirely believing them, most of the Lords and Ladies Governor took their seats again, though the Eastern Lord Governor – Mosby – continued in his line of thought. "You say, Sir Karigan, that the King lives… that I should have no doubt of it. Truly, I wish I could feel so certain. We haven't seen any proof that he's dead, though the deaths of his Weapons would indicate something foul. But neither have we seen any _evidence_ that King Zachary is not even now in Westrion's keeping, and Sacoridia cannot be without a leader, not in times like this!"

Karigan stared at the Lord Governor, matching him gaze for gaze, the utter silence of the room both reassuring and alarming. She did not trust the nobles to support the King… but she had her friends at her back, and to either side, and before her, in every nook and cranny of the room… Weapons hidden in plain sight from those who'd spent most of their lives ignoring the shadow-dwelling guardians.

When Karigan spoke again, her voice was calm but cold, and her face was set. While she knew the Lord Governor may indeed have the best interests of the country in mind, his manner of seeing to those interests was quickly becoming a threat to the very life of the King… for if the Council declared another King in Zachary's place, if the Council stated that they believed him dead… what purpose would his continued existence serve those who had captured him, if he had been captured? What would await him on his homecoming if he found another wearing his crown, another who might decide that Zachary was too great a threat to one who had become accustomed to power? And Karigan, already proven a force to be reckoned with when she stood in defense of others, set herself against the Council to protect her King.

"I will say this only once, Lord Governor Mosby, and I will say it as plainly as possible so that all here may understand without the need for too many additional questions. The King _is_ alive. As such, to set another on his throne while he is away from the city is nothing short of treason, and this Council will do so only over my dead body. To illustrate my point, I'll ask a question of others in this room who are equally familiar with the will of the King."

With that, her eyes flicked to her right, and at a slight nod, a Weapon stepped out of the shadows. "Donal," she said, "what say you?"

His voice strong and firm, his face unreadable, the first Weapon to call her 'Little Sister' answered. "I say King Zachary lives."

Her gaze moved to the next Weapon in the room, and Willis stepped forward. "Willis, what say you?"

"I say the King lives."

"Brienne?"

"He lives."

One by one, every Weapon in the room stepped forward and said the same, the last of them – Drent himself – speaking it in a defiant growl that dared the nobles to name him liar. The voices of Laren and Mara echoed Drent shortly after, and Karigan – wondering for a moment how she'd ended up _leading_ one side of this battle of words – continued on. "Do you see, my Lords? I am not the only one to trust in the strength and resourcefulness of our King. We will not betray him by setting another in his place, or tolerating anyone attempting to _take _his place."

Mosby's voice again rose in question, frustration and sarcasm evident as his expression twisted with anger. "What then, O Noble Knight of the Order of the Firebrand, are we to do? The Wall crumbles and vile beasts attack us at every turn. We must have a leader and you defend an _empty_ throne!"

"Wrong," Karigan responded, sharp and pointed. "I defend a throne that will see its King again. There can be no new Sovereign… but a steward would be acceptable. A steward, acting in the name of the King, could work to keep Sacoridia united in the King's absence. However, the one you choose must be willing to surrender all governing duties and powers upon the return of the King, for that one is _steward_ only, and the powers would not be his by right, but only wielded on behalf of the King. I would advise you to choose carefully, Lords and Ladies Governor, for whether the steward is of your group or outside of it, the one thing he must be above all else… is loyal to the King."

Turning, the still-angered Rider strode from the Council chamber, jaw clenched. Once outside the doors, fellow Riders and Weapons following shortly after, she found herself looking at the closed doors in a mild state of shock. Karigan closed her eyes for a moment and opened them to find the gathered Weapons looking to her. Uncertain, she glanced to Drent, who met her gaze, and allowed one corner of his mouth to turn upward in the barest of smiles… and she understood. They knew of her earlier meeting with Zachary.

Karigan's eyes swept over the group, and she nodded. For the moment, paying no heed to Laren or Mara, the knighted Rider focused on the black-clad swordmasters. Her gaze caught Colin's and she motioned him forward, but made her words loud enough for all to hear. "If they wish food, see that they have it. They may take short breaks, and they may recess the Council session to sleep, but not so much as a single one of them is to leave the castle until this matter is decided." To the last, the Weapons nodded in acknowledgment, while Captain Mapstone looked on, mystified.

The younger Rider turned on her heel, and took to the corridor, intent on putting some of her thoughts to paper, in hopes of inspiring new ideas on how to find the King. She was not surprised to be halted a moment later by the Captain.

"What was that about, Karigan?"

"Nothing more than me keeping a promise, Captain." Karigan struggled to calm her temper. After the meeting she'd just been through, the last thing she needed was to be pushed over the edge by Laren Mapstone.

"I need an explanation, Karigan."

At those words, the younger Rider looked at the Captain, certain her blue eyes were boring icy holes in Mapstone's head. She reigned in her anger, and restricted her comments, for the moment, to two softly-spoken words. "Your office." Out of the corner of her eye, Karigan spotted a moving shadow that she suspected was Donal, likely watching her on Drent's orders. She noticed also the look of confusion and anger on her Captain's face, and she ignored it.

Once in the Captain's office, Karigan didn't wait for Mapstone to speak. Her eyes locked with the Captain's and Karigan's gaze held the older woman's. "'_Take care of my people_,' he said to me. The night he left, two bells before the King and his small party of Weapons departed for that thrice-cursed meeting, he called me to his study. He did not call you, nor did he ask you to be the one to summon me, which is no surprise, given that he'd discovered you never delivered certain of his letters."

Karigan saw that the Captain was about to speak, and spoke more quickly. She had no wish to be interrupted right now. "I don't care about the letters right now, Captain; that will keep. All that matters is the promise I made to him. '_I have a bad feeling about this, Kari,'_ he said. '_The message seems genuine, and the offer of an alliance between all the kingdoms to defeat Mornhavon again… I cannot ignore the possibility.'_"

She paused for a moment to take a breath, but again, it wasn't enough time for the Captain to get a word in. "He was uneasy about the meeting, but everything in the message made sense. The meeting could not be here; it would have been disastrous if any remaining members of the Second Empire had noticed, and been able to get word of the alliance to Grandmother and Mornhavon. Safer, they thought, to meet elsewhere. The Weapons he was to take with him investigated the site of the meeting, and left some of their own there to remain on guard. It was unusual… but not reckless. There was no reason to suspect it was a trap… yet he was uneasy."

"He would not take me with him," she continued, turning away from the Captain and pacing the length of the room, "and he made me promise not to come after him. '_Promise me, Karigan,'_ he said, '_that you will not follow me, that you will stay here. If something happens… if I'm not able to return, promise me you'll protect the people. If I am captured and held, do not worry for me. Protect the people.'_ I was a fool, Captain. I gave him the promises he wished… save one. I couldn't promise that I would not worry, but I did vow to care for the people. Lord Governor Mosby is right. Sacoridia _does_ need a leader, but we already have a King. As willing as our King would be to sacrifice himself for Sacoridia, I cannot do it for him. Sacoridia will have another leader, Captain, but I couldn't let them name another King when Zachary would suffer for it."

Karigan realized her slip the instant the King's name passed her lips, but she didn't care. She stopped her pacing, once more meeting Captain Mapstone's eyes. "The Weapons looked to me because they knew of my meeting with King Zachary, and doubtless knew what he asked of me. That they know me well is no surprise; they would not have doubted my answer to him. They follow because they know I carry out his instructions… and I pray to the gods they are not the last words I ever hear from him."

The Captain said nothing, likely, Karigan thought, because she was too furious to speak. The younger Rider took advantage of the silence and left while she could, knowing she'd likely pay for the abrupt departure later. Donal slid out of friendly shadows and followed a few paces behind, making no attempt to hide his presence from her as she walked toward her quarters, intent on laying out a plan to locate her King.


	3. 2: A Talk Between Weapons

See Prologue for Disclaimer and A/N

A/N: Yes, I know it's been a long time since I've posted anything... and this isn't _A Rider's Heritage_ or _Haven's Lady_. Regardless, this is the one the muses wanted to work on now.... and since they're actually letting me write something, I'm not fighting too hard. I'll get new parts for the others up as soon as I can get them written. As always, thanks to Lady, beta and cheer-leading section extraordinaire.

_Chapter 2: A Talk Between Weapons_

_Sacoridia, still two years before_

From his place in the shadows just outside Karigan's room, Donal watched any and all passers-by, not just _looking_ for a threat to his charge, but _expecting_ it. Three days had passed and still the Council had reached no decision, though the volume of disagreement between them would have been enough to shake a lesser set of doors. That they were arguing over the matter was unmistakable, though what was said was muffled by thick, solid oak.

He saw a flicker of movement on the edge of his vision, and moved his eyes – and only his eyes – to discover what had caught his attention, reassured in that moment by Weapon black beneath the face of his own instructor. Donal did not relax from his watching position, but neither did he make any move to guard against Drent, knowing him to be as trustworthy as any, and fond of the Rider they protected. In truth, Donal knew what few did, that though Drent had indeed given orders to protect Karigan, no such order would have been needed for any Black Shield to guard the Rider they viewed as one of their own.

Drent was not here to relieve him, Donal knew. The older Weapon had been an instructor for many years, and had not stood an assigned watch within that time, his other tasks taking priority. Which meant… "Has the Council reached a decision?"

"Perhaps. At the least, they've been quieter in the past three hours than the past three days." Drent's voice was gruff and his eyes uncharacteristically worried as he glanced toward the small, closed door. "Rider G'ladheon?"

"Focused to the point of exhaustion on finding the King, with as great a devotion as any Black Shield, even to the point of wanting to request aid from the Eletians, save that she is not certain of Ari-matiel Jametari or his motives for doing anything. Neither does she know if she can trust King Santanara, as she has never met him, and knows little of him other than what Sacoridian history tells… not much. And yet, while she does this, she thinks also on many other things which are above and beyond typical concerns for a Rider."

A slight sigh escaped Drent before he spoke again, in response to Donal's report. "But then," he said, "she is no typical Rider. What other concerns rob her of sleep, Donal? I know my student well enough to be aware that sleep would be her last thought in recent days."

"Battle plans, Arms Master." Donal took in Drent's slight look of surprise and merely nodded to confirm what he'd said. "She charts the city's defenses, each Province's defenses, the military strength at the Wall. She has a listing of known Second Imperium arms, assets and known leaders and sympathizers. In addition, she's noted the last known locations of all of them. When I asked why, she said that someone outside of the city had to be aware of the King's disappearance… whoever it is that holds him. With the commotion around the city at present it's also possible that those groups opposed to Sacoridia who had nothing to do with it also are aware. That being the case, she had to think that any one or combination of those individuals and groups would attempt to take advantage of his absence… and _she_ could not let that happen. She promised him…"

"That she would protect the people. I know, Donal. I was in the room that night, though I can only presume that either Rider G'ladheon didn't see me, or she spared that detail when she explained things to the Captain. Mapstone hasn't come hunting my head yet for failing to inform her of the conversation… as if what happened in that room was any of her concern."

"And if the Council refuses to name a steward, Drent, and insists upon a King? What then? King Zachary lives. Our little sister knows it, and she has her own ways of knowing such things, though I couldn't say whether that is due to her Rider gift or the fact that she loves him. Regardless of the reason, if she says he lives, I've no cause to doubt it. However, the King is not here… is not, likely, anywhere that the Black Shield may be able to protect him. If we cannot protect our King, and will not stand for a new one to be appointed… what then do we do?"

Drent glanced again toward that closed door behind which Karigan either worked or slept, and when he looked back to Donal, his eyes were sharp and cold, his voice and manner resolute. "We will act in accordance with our code, Weapon of the Black Shield. We cannot protect our King, as we do not know where he is. We will not protect any that the Council attempts to put on the throne in his place, as that would be treason. If the Council names a steward, as they have been directed, that one will fall under our protection while we continue to search for the King. Regardless of anything else, the Protector _chosen_ by our King will always have a Black Shield to guard her back – unknown even to her, if necessary. She can be stubborn about such things."

The younger Weapon allowed one corner of his mouth to edge up in a slight smile at the truth of Drent's words, and then he tensed, hearing footsteps heading down the corridor in their direction.

He knew that Drent had also come to alert beside him, both relaxing only minutely when Colin Dovekey, himself a former Weapon, rounded the corner. While he was one of the King's primary advisors and often left in authority during the King's shorter absences from the castle, Colin had no interest in being steward. He did, however, have the responsibility of monitoring the Council deliberations… and informing persons of interest when a decision had been reached.

Donal did not question the advisor, leaving that option to Drent, as senior Black Shield. Even he did not speak in response to Colin's presence, leaving a raised, greyed eyebrow to ask the question for him.

Colin, pausing before them, did not answer Drent's silent query immediately. Instead, he looked to the closed door. "If Rider Sir G'ladheon is not awake, she will wish to be."

"The Council?"

"Has reached a decision, Donal. Half of them truly support the choice for steward. The other half hope that said steward fails miserably, so that they can justify declaring King Zachary dead and appointing another to his throne." At this, the advisor paused, and a dark chuckle escaped him, as he looked at the other two Weapons with a triumphant, impish gleam in his eyes.

"By Aeryc and Aeryon's mercy, the Council has chosen as steward, she whom the King named Sacoridia's protector. If they think that she will fail at any task they set her, when our King's life may be in the balance, they do not know her well at all, do they, Drent?"

With dark humor filling his own eyes, Drent turned to rap firmly on the door of the newly named – and as yet, unaware – Knight Steward of Sacoridia.


	4. 3: A Quiet Moment

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Rating information.

A/N: Remember that the time references use the Prologue as a base. "Two years before" means two years before the events of the Prologue. "Six months before" means six months prior to the events of the Prologue, etc.

A/N 2: There is a quite of bit of time between the end of Chapter 2 and the beginning of this chapter. Rest assured, I will cover what happened in that time... at the proper point in the story. Flashbacks and future conversations are wonderful things. As I promised before the Prologue, I will answer all questions... eventually.

A/N 3: As always, many and varied thanks to my wonderful beta, LadyDarkStar, and apologies to my readers for the lengthy delay – muses are fickle creatures.

**

_Chapter 3: A Quiet Moment_

_Sacoridia, six months before_

Karigan sat alone in the chamber that had been made her study. It was not the King's, for she had touched nothing of his save the paperwork and seal, items she needed to accomplish the duties that had been appointed to her. The furnishings in the room had never known the brush of Zachary's hand, and there were days she was grateful for that, when she missed him so greatly, any reminder would have tested her composure. There were other days she regretted the lack of his presence in this room, when she would have given anything for a reminder of the constant, subtle support he always provided her… and expected from her. She offered support by keeping safe his throne for him, the symbol that Sacoridia stood always ready to welcome home its absent King… though it became more difficult with each month that passed, and her debates with the Council were many on that topic.

Though she had support aplenty from Weapon, Rider, and common soldier alike, there were many things she could do only as Zachary had done them… alone. The burdens that had rested once upon his shoulders now were hers to bear and there were days – when battles had been long and bloody and grief became familiar company – when she felt the weight of them keenly, and wondered how he had managed. Now, with nearly eighteen months of this stewardship to her credit, she truly feared that she would never set eyes on her King again… and it was only her familiar routine, and the thought of those who were dependent upon her, that kept her moving from one day to the next.

Karigan had crafted a daily schedule that she kept as much as any schedule _could_ be kept these days… that included dawn training with Drent, though she had achieved her Swordmaster status shortly before the King's disappearance. She did not allow herself to relax that training, and indeed, had expanded it to include archery, as well, knowing that lives would depend on her skills – the lives of her friends, her comrades-in-arms, her people… and indeed, her own, as Drent would never allow her to forget.

Drent… Drent was one of the few whose attitude toward her had not changed in light of the duties she now held. Rather, if it had, he took great care not to let her see it, and she appreciated that. There were mornings when she needed nothing more than to be called "girl," and treated as a person – however abrupt the Arms Master's manner – rather than as a servant… or someone exalted, justly or otherwise.

Sacoridia seemed to be of two minds in regards to her, she knew. What were they to think of the King's absence, and a steward governing where his judgments once held weight of law? Karigan could only hope that her rulings in his stead were fair and just… and that history would judge her kindly, if it cared to judge her at all.

Sighing, she set aside her quill, having been so long looking at these papers that the words were beginning to blur before her eyes. It had been only a few weeks since Estora and her father had come to her, as the representative of the King, to break the betrothal contract that bound Estora to a man her father believed would never return. In truth, it had taken longer than Karigan would have thought, given that Lord Governor Coutre had shown little hope of the King's return while in Council. Coutre was in favor of the break because he wished Estora free so as to pursue other alliances. Estora wished to be free because she had never wanted to be Queen, and had never been comfortable with the thought – particularly in the wake of her kidnapping – of being a target. Karigan could not blame her for wishing to avoid the trappings – and traps – of royalty; being steward was difficult enough… yet she would not leave her people to fend for themselves.

Karigan, knowing that the King had offered for Estora more for the sake of duty than anything resembling love, granted the request. It helped that though she was busy, she was not blind, and had noted the growing attachment between her friend and the King's cousin, Amberhill. She wondered if he was much like F'ryan, if Estora truly felt for him, or if she only sought a return to what she'd lost. Regardless, as the break was at Lord Governor Coutre's request, that meant one less headache for the King when he returned, one less concern that the Eastern Provinces would blackmail him into wedding where he did not wish.

Setting her head in her hands, she rested for a moment. The night had grown late and she knew her tasks the next day to be many. Karigan needed to sleep and she knew it, but with sleep came dreams – either nightmares of his death, or sweet dreams of a love that left her crying in the morning, when she woke to the knowledge that he was not there. Standing, she moved about the room, extinguishing lamps and candles, heading to the door… and stopping, as she noted something on a small side-table that had not been there earlier in the day.

Moving to the table, she let her fingers brush the lid of the coffer that rested there. She remembered this; she never could have _forgotten _this. Opening the lid of the finely crafted chest, she saw what she knew would be there – a brush and mirror set of silver, laid gently on a bed of purple velvet, inlaid with her initials and crafted by the King's own smiths.

As fingers ghosted over the once-rejected gift, she wondered what it meant, that someone had taken it from its former resting place and set it in her study. Karigan closed her eyes as her fingers came into contact with the cool metal. Part of her was angered at the thought of someone presuming to touch this, and another part relieved. Perhaps this was the daily reminder she needed, the presence of the King that she had been wishing for… a night-time memory of a declaration unspoken, and a renewal of hope.

Even in her relief, her mind puzzled at its presence. Who had known of the coffer and its current location, when not even she had known where the King placed it after she'd so summarily returned it to him? And, of those, who would have thought to move it here, now?


End file.
